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Rachel has yet to find what useful purpose Dean serves to this world or any other. So far his driving skills, propensity for violence, and taste in music has been far outweighed by the pure annoying of his personality.

The number of punches she's dealt his shoulder has multiplied ever since she hit her head, too. Maybe Jo was attracted to men that tried to baby her but Rachel would take a monster over a concerned individual any day of the week.

Which is why she had no problem with stealing one of Dean's guns after they'd made camp and he'd gone off to-- do whatever it was he was going to do. Se has her own, of course, but it doesn't serve her purpose.

It isn't shiny.

"Mort?" Rachel frowns and glances over her shoulder to make sure no one's around to see her acting like a crazy woman, talking to a gun. "C'mon, I need to talk to you."

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"Point of what?" Dean's confused and too lazy to really care much. "Bein' Batman? Dude, he's Batman."

"The not killing people thing. Were the Batman villains just really lame or what?"

That's all she can think of. They must never have had to fight a real war.

"Dunno. It's comic book world," Dean reminds her. "Where all the chicks are smoking hot and wear a stack of spandex. And the good guys always win. I don't think it's mean to be real."

Rachel's jaw sets, sighing softly.

Worried.

"...they're screwed."

"Not our problem," Dean says, shrugging. "They're freakin' book characters. Don't get attached."

"... not that it sounded like y'were in danger of it."

"Unless you meant don't attach my fist to her face, no, not much danger."

She's still frowning, though.

"So far as I can tell, they're book characters that still bleed. Makes it a problem."

Not necessarily her problem or his problem or-- their problem. But a problem. And who else would fix it?

Dean wrinkles his nose. "Yeah."

He's kind of fond of that Sokka kid -- although he has no proof that Sokka's not fictional either.

"They'll deal with it. Or we'll save their asses, I guess. Once we get hold'a Jo."

It takes Rachel a minute to realize she's smiling about that, even just a little.

Until she groans and presses her hands to her face. "Oh man, if I've got to save Malibu Barbie's butt, I'm going to be so pissed."

"Mali-who Barbie?"

There's Malibu Barbies around and Dean isn't banging them? D:

Yes. See: Rachel.

"Steph."

And also tiny bubbly Batman gymnasts he probably wasn't thinking of banging in the first place.

"Ew, too young. And too short."

Smirk.

"And too blonde. Blondes are such bitches."

"You sure do keep a lot of them around for not liking them much," Rachel points out, rolling her eyes at the stars.

Dean holds up one finger, looks at it thoughtfully, and turns to her.

Rachel is very busy looking at the stars, you see.

That smirk is coincidence.

"Ah, you're just too hard to get rid of," Dean says, comfortably. "It's the car. Chicks dig the car."

Snorting, Rachel crosses her arms behind her head. "You haven't gotten rid of me because you haven't asked me to go," she informs him.

But she doesn't argue the car.

"Maybe you just haven't pissed me off bad enough yet."

He knew it was the car.

"Well, why wait?" She doesn't like this game so much, the back-and-forth of 'i hate you, i hate you more' when she's been awkward about traveling with him in the first place. Rachel's still looking up at the stars but she's losing some of her smile, irritated by the push of it.

"Go ahead, tell me to go."

Dean rolls to his side and leans up on his elbows to look at her thoughtfully.

"You wanna go?"

"I don't want to be anywhere I'm not wanted."

"I don't want anyone around," Dean reminds her, "but you already knew that. You're all right. You don't bitch too much."

This is possibly the nicest thing he's ever said to her.

N'awwwww.

It's the nicest thing that's been said to Rachel in a while. She glances over at him, stretched out with eyes slightly narrowed, considering.

She's not Jo.

But then, that was kind of obvious from the way she never lets him get too close to her, probably.

Rachel smirks and looks back up at the sky. "Someone's got to counter all the whining you do. How lucky for me."

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